To Have Loved and Lost
by nawlins79
Summary: Andy McNally and Sam Swarek on the road to recovering from a broken heart - now a TWO SHOT!
1. Chapter 1

A.N. This is a just a quick one-shot I wrote between 310 and 311. If anyone is interested, I may be willing to add a second chapter to it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue or its characters. This is for entertainment only.

Her entire body aches, she can feel the pounding of her heart in her arms, legs, even her feet, but she pushes on, forces her body forward, further away from Sam and his biting remarks. Once upon a time, two weeks ago, she wholeheartedly believed Sam thought she was a capable copper, fully deserving of his respect - now - not so much. Truth be told, she didn't recognize the man who had just verbally lashed out at her, he was no longer the same man who had shared her bed not too long ago.

The thought churns her stomach, bile rising in her throat. She pushes it back and keeps walking. She stumbles, catches herself on the wall to her left, rough brick scraping her palm, just one more ache to ignore. She takes a moment to catch her breath and happens to see the door to the shop open and a trio of teenage boys file out, all wearing black uniforms consistent with martial arts, each with different colored belts around their waists. A slight woman follows them out, her head turned back to say goodbye to someone on the inside.

Andy looks up and finds herself outside of Sun Je's Mixed Martial Arts Training facility. Before she can change her mind, she shoves off from the wall, wipes her hand on her jeans to remove the dust from the brick and walks briskly through the door.

"can we help you?" a young woman behind the counter asks her.

Andy stands in the doorway willing her eyes to adjust to the dim interior lights. She sees trophies fill one cabinet to her right, a counter straight in front of her and behind the counter a full size window to the training room. It's silent.

"Yeah, do you offer any one on one training?" She finally asks.

The young woman starts to shake her head, but a man Andy hadn't seen speaks up instead.

"What kind of training are you looking for?" HE's tall, over six feet, light mocha skin, hazel eyes, hair shorn close and multiple tattoos on both biceps. He stands with his feet apart, loose fitting black pants and a black top with no sleeves; very similar to most karate or judo outfits she's seen before.

"Um . . ." Andy falters. How can she explain that she's a police officer in dire need of self-defense?

The man saves her. "We train a wide variety of ways, karate, judo, boxing, jujitsu, it's a mixed martial arts. There are classes for beginners . . . " he trails off when Andy bits her bottom lip.

She sags against the wall by the front door and closes her eyes. Her aching body finally giving in to the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours.

"Amber, get me a bottle of water," the man commands while steering Andy towards the only couch in the room. "Sit. It looks like you need rest not training."

Andy sighs in relief, gulps the water Amber brings her and leans back on the couch. The man has sat down next to her and is watching her with confusion and concern. He must have set Amber off because when Andy opens her eyes she is gone.

"I'm really not interest in classes. I need some one on one training, sparring, anything really. I can't keep on going the way that I have. . . I"m liable to get someone hurt and then . . . ." she trails off again when she realizes he has no idea what she is talking about.

"I'm a cop and my training officer seems to think I can't cut it," she explains softly, her eyes focus on the water bottle label. "I made a mistake today, one that could have cost someone's life. I can't do it again."

He tilts his head to the side and watches her. It reminds her suddenly of the way Sam used to look at her. In the beginning. Like he was taking her measure, the worth of his time. Her heart begins to ache, her chest tightening, until she remembers the words he hurled at her. Then the anger burns hot and bright. He must see something in her eyes.

"The place closes down at six on Thursdays and Saturdays. Amber stays to clean and prepare for the next day. I can give you two hours, we'll find a program that works best for you. If you can't make it a certain day because of work, just call and let me know," he says, his eyes never wavering from hers.

Andy smiles widely in relief. She did not want to use the weight room at work nor ask the on staff trainer to work with her. The last thing she wants is for Sam to know.

"We'll start this Saturday, if you can," he says.

"Yeah, Saturday works for me." Andy replies hastily.

"I'm Tate, by the way," he states with a wry smile. "Tate Renfroe."

"Andy McNally."

And that's how Andy finds herself every Thursday and most Saturdays, at Sun Je's training facility after hours. He starts her on basic moves from karate and judo, working in some kickboxing. Some days she works a punching bag, others lifting weights. He gets her heart rate up, her feet moving faster and her timing impeccable. Afterwards, Tate rubs her legs and arms to keep the muscle loose.

She spills her history with Sam, keeps to the Cliff Notes version, doesn't want to make a big deal out of it. Sam is her past and she is working on her future.

Her time with Tate begins to show itself at work. Two separate shifts with chasing bad guys, she manages to take them down easily, both Chris and Dov are impressed. Since her first shift after Sam walked out, she had yet to ride with him, Frank still being sympathetic of the situation,. But she hears things. Knows her performance is getting around the barn.

In an effort to take back her life and stop conforming to the guys she dates, she makes necessary changes in her life. She quits her yoga class and starts using a DVD at home before shift, every shift. She cuts out coffee, mainly because Tate says it'll slow her performance, it gives her a caffeine high and her body will crash faster on it than without. So she starts to drink water, lots of water, which helps avoid Sam as well. He always heads straight for it whenever he's in the barn longer than ten minutes.

Andy keeps her head down whenever he's around. She promised herself she wouldn't pine for him. He wanted out, so he got it. She refuses to endure awkward, stilted conversation, on the road to friendship. Not going to happen. No way would she be able to be friends with him. Why be friends with a guy who shares so little of himself. If anything he would be a drinking buddy. He would be someone to have small talk with at the bar for an hour and then go home to the real boyfriend. But she can't do that yet, because every time she looks at him, she thinks about how he promised to fight for her and then walked away without a backward glance. She thinks about him asking for his keys back the day after. She thinks about how she absolutely and totally fell in love with him only to find out that he didn't love her back.

So, Andy keeps her head down at the barn, stays quiet on patrol, keeps the chatter to a minimum to concentrate on her surroundings, she starts to trust her gut again. She thinks maybe one day Sam will believe in her abilities again, but tries not to dwell on it, since only heartache waits for her there.

It's well in to winter when Frank announces 15 Division will start it's re-training exercises. It had been postponed right after Jerry died and then got pushed aside with bad weather and accidents. It's the first time the rookies have to go through it. Frank has them go in shifts to keep re-assigning shifts to a minimum. He posts a schedule outside the training room so every one knows when they will partake.

Andy finds her name, along with Chris, Gail, Sam, Oliver and Noelle. There are several others she hasn't worked too closely with. She sees she's been assigned as the cop, Sam is on the list as a criminal. She can't decide if she wants to be paired with him so she can beat him to submission or if she wants him on the sidelines watching as she takes down someone else.

"So, you think you'll get paired with Sam?" Traci asks her the day of re-training. They're sitting in the locker room, Andy changing into her uniform, sans dress shirt. "Dang, girl, what did you do?" Traci exclaims.

Andy twists to see her back in the mirror across the room. A large purple bruise has bloomed on her right side, from spine to hip. It's pretty nasty. Tate had caught her unawares the night before, she had still managed to get him down on the mat, but still . . .

"It's nothing," Andy replies, pulling her black shirt over her head.

"That not nothing," Traci argues. "It looks like someone hit you hard."

"I'll be fine. Barely hurts," Andy reassured her, sitting back down to lace up her boots.

Traci watches her for a moment with raised eyebrows clearing not believing her. "I'm sorry, but you need to explain to me how a giant bruise on your back barely hurts. Did one of our suspects get too physical? Dov said he didn't get to you until after you cuffed the guy. Did he struggle with you?"

Andy puffs out a breath, yanks her hair up into a messy ponytail and then twists it into a bun, harder for the "criminal" to latch on to.

"Look, Trace," Andy finally starts, turning to straddle the bench and look at her friend. "I've been training with someone. My right side is still weak and he got me, okay? I'll be fine. This is nothing compared to . . ." she abruptly stops.

"Compare to?" Traci prods. "Has it been worse?"

"I gotta get in there," Andy says and jumps up from the bench. She's halfway out the door when Traci stands up.

Turns out she doesn't get paired with Sam, but with Chris. She watches Sam give Officer Gelman the runaround, takes him nearly five minutes to pin Sam to the ground. It's the first time in a long time she allows herself to look at him, truly look at him. He's been going longer between shaves, so there's dark stubble along his jaw. His hair has grown longer and brushes his collar in back. He's bulked up a bit, his biceps straining his shirt. Andy can admit he looks yummy. She feels a pang of arousal in her belly when he glances at her after standing back up. He looks away first, Andy doesn't even try to stop from rolling her eyes.

Sam comes to stand by her, smelling of sweat and cologne, it reminds her of how he smelled after sex. He's breathing heavily too, which doesn't help the image of him stamped in her mind.

"Nash tells me you're hurt," he says quietly, meant for only her ears.

Andy rolls her eyes. "Traci should mind her own business."

"Maybe you should tell Frank and switch sides?" He offers, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Why? Afraid I'll beat your time and win," She asks nodding towards the bottle of scotch being offered up as the prize.

Sam snorts a laugh. "Just don't want to see you get more hurt."

Andy huffs and turns away from him, not sure if he meant physically or emotionally more hurt. They haven't spoken more than simple courtesies to each other or to relay information at a crime scene. He's stopped yelling at her and moved on to talking down to her, spelling out his every command as though she doesn't know her own ass from the ABC's.

"McNally!" Frank booms across the room. "You'll be taking down Diaz!"

There are hoots, hollers and side bets being placed as Diaz gets suited up. Andy tests out the baton she needs to use to subdue him. She hefts it in her hands, checking the weight and balance of it. She had asked Tate a few weeks back if they could train with a baton. She had already started wearing her work boots to hone her technique while inhibited with the boot's bulky weight.

"You don't think I can do this, do you?" She asks Sam, her eyes burning into his. He had sidled up to her as she waited for Diaz. "After all this time and all that you taught me, you really believe I can't do this job," she states it, but he takes it as a question.

"I think you have a long way to go."

It's the way he says it. Matter of fact. Like cold hard proof. He believes it. And it breaks her heart a little more. She straightens her spine, wills the tears away, swallows the sob choking her.

"McNally! Diaz is ready, are you?" Frank hollers.

Andy nods, her eyes focused on Sam's unrelenting gaze. "Wow, you really don't know me," she says to him and walks away.

"Don't worry, Andy," Chris says with a smile. "I'll take it easy on you, on account of your bruise."

And it makes her angry how easily everyone puts on kid gloves around her, like she's freaking breakable or something. Time to prove them all wrong.

It's easy to get lost in the fight, to find her opponents weakness, which in this case is Diaz's apparent reluctance to hurt her all because she has a bruise on her back. She gives no quarter to him, dancing him around in tight circles, feinting left and striking hard from the right, her pulse quickens as they move, Diaz is breathing heavily, weighted down by his padding, the baton another part of her body, she keeps him constantly on edge until finally she smoothly knocks him off his feet, forcing him to land heavily on his back, the baton at his throat and her straddling his chest blocking his airway.

Chris taps the ground, wheezing and staring at her with shock in his eyes. Andy grins slowly, the cheers finally getting through the pounding in her ears. She looks up and sees Sam. His mouth is open, shock and amazement written across his face. She licks her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth, releasing it and grinning widely. She knows her hair is falling out, her skin flushed from exertion, but all she can concentrate on is the flare of arousal in his eyes.

Oh yeah, she totally got him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. So I wasn't sure if I was going to post this as it doesn't have the same feel as the first part. But then I thought that Sam deserved the spotlight for a bit too.**

**So here is . . .**

SAM'S SIDE:

Two weeks. That's all it took post-breakup for Sam to realize what a colossal idiot he had been.

It only took her calling him "sir".

The first week he had ignored her calls, avoided her at the barn, asked Frank to ride alone, started to question her judgment on every single fucking case they crossed paths on, anything at all to preserve his deep desire to serve and protect without her interference.

The second week the calls had stopped, her overtures at the barn had stopped. It all just stopped. If he thought his heart had been broken before, nothing compared to how it felt after she stopped looking at him, stopped saying hello, stopped bringing him coffee, stopped the incessant chatter in the squad car.

But by then he had been nothing but uncivil to Andy and finding the words to change that fact were even more difficult than it had been to admit even to himself he really did love her.

When Luke had cheated, she had been angry. But now she was withdrawn, hurt, sad. He had done that to her when he had promised himself way back at the beginning if he only just got a chance, he'd never let go, never let her question him ever.

Two weeks.

Two weeks into six.

Six into two months.

Instead of reaching out, he lashed out. Instead of apologizing, he demeaned.

To say he was surprised – aroused – by her re-train exercise would be a gross understatement. He always knew her to be athletic and quick on her feet, regardless of the amount of times a suspect had tripped her up in the past, she had always gotten them cuffed. _This_ was different from _that_. Her movements were nearly balletic in their fluidity despite the heavy work boots. Every opening he saw and Chris took, she blocked. While she breathed normally, Chris heaved and perspiration coated his face. In a move too quick to see, Andy had Chris pinned, straddling his chest. And the glance she gave him brought every single wake-up morning sex session he had shared with her hurtling to the front of his mind.

Yeah, he remembered how it felt to wrestle with her naked and sweaty and best of all, giggling.

He went to the Penny that night hoping on one hand she'd be there and he'd finally break the silence between them and on the other that she wouldn't be there so he could ignore his insecurity when it came to facing her.

She didn't show.

Not that night, not the next night or any night following.

Sam didn't know what to think. Frank still kept from partnering them – even when he approached Frank and said it would be okay for him too. Yes, he tried to force their interaction with each other the most passive way he could think of.

She never looked at him in Parade, always sitting in front with Nick or Chris for company. She always walked past him without looking at him, even when he tried to catch her eye. He was left with a whiff of her flowery perfume and the back of her head, the swing of her ponytail mocking him.

He tried, unsuccessfully, for two weeks to talk to her, to apologize, to grovel, to beg her forgiveness.

The rooks had closed ranks around her though. She was never alone in the locker room, never alone in the break room, never alone when she brought back suspects for booking, never alone when she left for the day.

He watched day after day as she left the station with one of the rooks. He tried following Chris's Jeep one night and lost track of it when he didn't turn towards Andy's condo, but away from it. He waited outside her condo for nearly three hours and still she didn't come home.

On his next days off, he went to St. Catherine's to visit his sister and her family. He hoped the time away would get his brain back online. So he spent three days cleaning gutters, mowing the lawn, changing oil, and weeding the garden.

"On another note, it is with pleasure I can announce one of our rooks has moved on to bigger and better things," Frank announced the first day back on rotation. His eyes moved across the room and stopped briefly on Sam's. "Officer McNally has accepted a position with Toronto's Strategic Response Unit. We wish her the best in her new career."

Sam barely felt the slap Ollie gave him when he started choking on the coffee he had just swallowed. With his eyes watering, he looked around the room and noticed Andy was not in the room. She had missed the last day before end of rotation; Frank had not mentioned anything on why she was out that day.

"Frank!" Sam called out after parade, rushing down the hall to catch up to his superior.

"Sam."

"Just like that? " Sam asked and followed Frank into his office.

Frank shut the door and walked over to his desk, dropping into the chair with a sigh. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stared at Sam.

"McNally requested the transfer shortly after re-train. She had the required recommendations. I just signed the papers. SRU took one look at her record and decided the slight blemish with the conduct unbecoming was a one-time occurrence resulting from the disruption of an ongoing relationship with another officer," Frank explained slowly and quietly.

"They didn't care about the suspension? I find that very hard to believe," Sam countered with dripping sarcasm.

"She had several glowing recommendations, her own stellar retrain scores, her collar record since coming back from the suspension," Frank replied. "She's turned into an amazing cop, Sam. I thought you'd be happy for her. You did train her."

They stared at each other. Sam glaring, Frank with solemn concern.

"Maybe it's time for a change yourself," Frank finally said. "We haven't filled the detective position since Jerry. Luke has agreed to remain on until it's filled."

"I'm not a detective, Frank. I don't want to be stuck behind a desk and looking at bones every day," Sam retorted.

"There's more to the job than that and you know it. You've been putting off this promotion for years," Frank replied. "Your days in GNG are done, Sam. The Brennan op made sure of that. Oliver is suited for career beat cop, but not you. Nash could use the partner. You've been a part of this division for fifteen years, Sam. You know how we work here. You know the protocol. The only thing you would need to do, is complete the coursework, take the exam."

Sam shrugged. He couldn't get his mind off the fact he would not see Andy stumble into the locker room and then rush to parade with seconds to spare. He wouldn't see her smile every day or hear her laugh, even from the distance he had created between them. He didn't know how to fix what he broke if she wouldn't be around to accept it.

"It's no longer your choice, Sam," Frank stated, breaking into Sam's thoughts. He tossed a file at Sam's chest. "You start the courses on Tuesday and go every Tuesday and Thursday for the next six weeks. You'll take the exam at the end and pass it with flying colors."

Sam flipped the file open and saw the application he had never filled out was accepted and the course syllabus outlined for the next six weeks.

"Now get out of my office," Frank said with a finality that Sam couldn't argue with.

Sam stormed out of the office, down the stairs and to his desk. Ollie was chomping on a breakfast sandwich and raised his eyebrows in alarm when Sam threw the file on the desk.

"Did you know? About Andy?" Sam demanded with his hands on his hips. "Did you know Frank was forcing me into a suit?"

Ollie swallowed hard.

"Yes."

"Yes? That's all you have to say?"

"Look Sammy," Ollie began. "Andy had an opportunity and took it. And yeah, we need another detective. Luke won't be around forever. It would be better to have someone from 15 fill Jerry's place than someone new."

Sam snorted; Ollie grabbed his arm when he walked past.

"Sammy, you messed up. You didn't fix it when you had every chance in the world too. What did you expect? Did you want Andy to wait forever for you to figure your shit out?"

"It would have been nice to know!"

Ollie nodded with a sad smile.

"Sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. It's a cliché for a reason, Sam," Ollie said quietly. "Take time to sort out your shit, work on this promotion, maybe one day you'll walk into the Penny, see her and maybe just maybe, she'll let you buy her a drink. Until then . . . " he trailed off.

"And?"

"You'll see if it can work out between you two."

It wasn't one day, or the next or the following week.

Instead, Sam put everything he had into the detective coursework and aced every class. He spent his days working the streets, crossing paths with SRU on a couple of calls – never seeing Andy, went to classes twice a week, did homework when he could, weekends with friends or at his sister's.

He kept busy. Earned his detective badge and was partnered with Nash, she was calm and cool to balance his temper and fire. He found out being a detective meant more than paperwork and looking at bones.

Then finally . . . he saw her.

It was a routine domestic call. Diaz and Collins were already on-scene when the situation escalated. He and Nash were returning to the barn after taking a witness statement on a nearby homicide. The call came over dispatch and they were the closest.

SRU was called in. Sam had just finished conferring with Collins on what happened, when shots were fired inside the home. Down the street, the SRU vehicles came around the corner and raced down the street, three of them spread out across the street blocking it from traffic.

Sam watched as the doors to the first vehicle opened and Andy emerged from the passenger side. She slammed the door, her face grim and determined, listening intently to the three other men who surrounded her. All wore standard SRU uniforms. Andy was the only woman in the group, but it was obvious the men she worked with respected her.

"She looks good," Nash said quietly. Sam jerked his head and found Nash standing next to him.

"You should know," was his gruff reply. He knew Nash kept in constant contact with Andy. More than one time he had watched as Nash answered her phone and stepped out of their shared office to continue the conversation. He knew Andy was on the other line every time.

Nash shrugged and grinned as the scene played out in front of them.

She wasn't kidding. Andy did look good. Her hair was shorter and darker and she had added streaks of bright red. While the driver of her vehicle directed the rest of them, Andy pulled her hair up into a ponytail. One of the guys next to her said something and punched her on the shoulder, which prompted her to hip check him.

There wasn't much for TPS to do except contain the scene. Sam was relegated to observing Andy with her new team and keep the concerned citizens of the neighborhood from getting too close.

While the rest of the team took positions around the house, Andy remained with the driver. Sam wished he knew the guy's name. He was tall, muscular and his silver hair shaved close to his head. They stayed near their vehicle and were constantly talking to each other or on a cellphone.

He figured the guy was Andy's new training officer and she was being held back from the action until she got a little more experience. It helped a little to know she wasn't in immediate danger.

"You should stop worrying so much," Nash said interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm not worried. She's no where near the action," Sam replied testily.

Nash scoffed at him and then smirked. "She's in the middle of the action, Sam."

"What?"

"She's the negotiator," Nash answered, nodding towards Andy who was currently on the cellphone again.

Sam narrowed his eyes and took in the scene again. The driver stood next to Andy, his body angled towards her and head dipped low to hear what was being said. Andy was focused, her gaze on the house – no – on a window on the second floor. She was the picture of calm. He couldn't hear what she said, but her expression never changed.

"Sam, make no mistake, she may not have a gun in her hands right now, but my girl knows how to use it," Nash stated.

His eyes flew to the guns the other team members held trained on the front of the house. Andy didn't have any weapons strapped to her body. She only wore grey cargo pants, matching shirt and bulletproof vest.

"Well, she never shut up in the cruiser, so it makes sense," Sam attempted levity to hide his growing concern.

Nash just chuckled.

The ending happened quickly. The men stationed around the house rushed in while Andy slumped forward onto the hood of the SUV and dropped her head onto her arms. The driver squeezed her shoulder and leaned down to say something into her ear.

The team led a man out in cuffs. As they walked past Andy, the man caught her eye before hanging his head. He was passed off to Diaz.

Sam lost sight of Andy as the rest of her team surrounded her again, giving high fives, slaps on the shoulder and in the case of one of them – a huge bear hug, lifting her right off her feet.

Nash left Sam's side and went over to Andy. He waited and watched their reunion. Diaz and Collins joining in. They were all laughing and talking at the same time. Sam wished he could congratulate her, instead he walked back to the unmarked car he and Nash had arrived in, climbed in and sat back to wait for Nash to join him.

"She'll be at the Penny tonight," Nash stated when she finally settled into the car.

"That right?"

"Apparently, this was her first call as a negotiator. They want to celebrate. Since the call happened in 15's backyard, they are going to the Penny instead of their usual bar," she explained. "Tonight might be a good night to buy her that drink."

Sam didn't respond.

The Penny was packed when Sam opened the door. A quick scan of the interior showed the rookies at their usual table in the back, Noelle and Frank were at the bar and Ollie was playing pool with Becca . . . again.

He didn't see Andy or any of the others. He stifled a sigh. It was just one more night where he missed his chance. It was his own damn fault. He stayed later at the barn than he planned, caught up in paperwork in the hopes once he did make it to the bar he could buy her a drink . . . maybe take her somewhere quiet to talk, to apologize, hell he'd grovel on his knees if it meant another chance with her.

Sam sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer. He had taken his first sip when he smelled her perfume. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning around.

"Hey, Sam."

Her timid smile made his stomach swoop low.

"Hi."

They stared at each other. His eyes raked over her from head to toe cataloging each minor change real and imaginary. The edgy cut and color of her hair, the sleek make up, skin-tight jeans and loose fitting top. She looked both older and younger than he remembered.

"Let me buy you a drink." He had to clear his throat a couple of times before the words got unstuck.

She grinned and suddenly she was the woman in his dreams. Her goofy smile and pink cheeks.

She hopped onto the stool next to him while he held up a hand to get Liam's attention. They said nothing until Liam set a bottle of her favorite beer down in front of her.

"So you're a detective now," she stated simply and swigged from her bottle.

"And you're a negotiator," he replied.

"Had to put my mouth to good use somehow." She grinned at the double entendre and blushed again, but shrugged it off.

"It is one of your best assets," he agreed with a wry grin of his own. Her blush deepened and she rolled her eyes.

They lapsed into silence. He could feel her peeking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to face her. He waged an internal battle with himself. Should he apologize now, flirt a bit more first, ask her to go someplace quieter and then beg forgiveness.

"Sam," she said quietly, her hand rested lightly on his arm. "Stop beating yourself up."

He looked at her in surprise and frowned.

She laid her right arm on the bar and turned towards him. Her left hand squeezed his arm.

"I'm sorry."

She gave him a small smile and lightly ran her fingers up the length of his forearm to pause at his elbow.

"Andy, I'm so sorry. For everything. For the way I acted, the way I treated you. You didn't deserve any of it and I was too much of coward to apologize when it mattered the most," he said, the words tripping out of his mouth faster than his brain could process all he wanted to say to her.

"Sam, it was a long time ago."

He sat still absorbing her words. They didn't make him feel any better. He wanted more than anything to go back to the way they were . . . or rather . . . to the way he had always wanted to be with her. He wanted to tell her about his past, his fear of opening up to someone other than his sister, how he had fallen in love with her so fast and so hard he didn't know how to show it or how to tell her.

"Sam." Her fingers stroked the skin of his forearm lightly. "Sam."

He looked at her, saw her open smile, big doe eyes with an understanding of the turmoil he might be going through.

"I forgave you a long time ago." Her words are soft, but urgent when they come, her gaze never leaving his face. He held his breath, waiting, hoping, praying.

"There is nothing left to say. What was in the past between us is in the past," she said quietly.

"I don't want to keep it in the past." He finally choked out. "Andy, I don't want what we had to remain in the past."

Andy smiled wide and a slight blush darkened her cheeks.

"I don't want that either."

For the first time in months, Sam felt hope bloom in his chest.

Finally.


End file.
